


Always & Forever

by K_Swiss



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Love this boi, NSFW, Profanity, Romance, Underage Drinking, hella cute, hella fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28574400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Swiss/pseuds/K_Swiss
Summary: They say a couple is truly in love when the heart beats the same rhythm. Through all the trials and tribulations, he is yours as you are his.*editing as I go*(Previously L&V&T)
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	1. Impromptu

**Author's Note:**

> Always n Forever by Mariah the Scientist is lit the soundtrack for the whole fic. Lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time Atsumu surprises you.

“How about we do something more casual, what do they call it now? Athleisure?” 

You look at the photographer and shrug. 

“Okay, let’s get her changed into our newest leggings and a matching zip-up.” 

“Throw some colorful Flyknits on too.” Your agent states, giving you a critical eye.

A sponsorship deal with a leading sports brand. At first you were super excited about it, who wouldn’t want to be sponsored by Nike? You were the girl from Inarizaki who just so happened to went pro in tennis. The twenty-two year old who went toe to toe with  the Venus Williams. You keep yourself from blinking or squinting at the bright light.  _ Flash._

“Beautiful. Let’s take an angle from bottom up with her looking down.” 

The twenty-two year old who’ll represent Japan in the Olympics.  _ Flash._

“Alright, show me a confident smize.”  _ Smize _ ? You roll your shoulders and sigh, doing whatever a smize is to the best of your ability. 

The twenty-two year old who’s boyfriend is none other than Miya Atsumu, setter of the MSBY Black Jackals.

“ _ Gorgeous _ .” 

Your face involuntarily twitches into a smile at the camera. His presence alone creating a sense of ease that breezes over you like flying a kite on a beach. It’s lazy, relaxing, and comforting all the same. Finally looking up from the photographer, you step off the backdrop to wrap your arms around him, standing on your tip-toes to press a kiss to his jaw. “What are you doing here?” 

“Paying my extremely talented girlfriend a visit on her first major deal? What’s it look like?” He raises a brow at you as if it was the most common sense thing. You suppose it is when you think about it, but, he was a busy person and very seldom your schedules meshed to create time in the day to see each other. 

You roll your eyes and let go reluctantly until the photographer lifts a finger. 

“How about we get a picture of you two?” 

Atsumu doesn’t miss a beat and grins. “Why not?”

“Let’s find him some  _ athleisure _ wear.” The photographer cringes at the word but notions for the stylists and Atsumu’s whisked away, turning back at you to give you a raised brows and wide grin. 

Upon his return, he’s wearing a black pullover that has a reflective stripe going down the sides of his arms that blend in to the color of the jacket and black joggers. 

“You look good,” you grin, standing next to him in front of the camera. 

Atsumu smirks. “Don’t I always.” He stands where he’s instructed and turns his body slightly. The smirk still dons his face. You withhold a gasp or a flinch when you feel him grope your ass from behind, you can hear him mumble, “Thank God I’m wearing black, yer ass looks fuckin’ amazing. I’m gonna bend ya—“

“Ok, let’s focus more on the dynamic of the two, height difference will really play a part in this!”

And the next few hours are of you and Atsumu, in front of a camera doing uncomfortable poses, stomachs grumbling because the real reason why your boyfriend paid you a visit was to check out a new Poké bowl spot down the road from the apartment you two shared and he wanted to go for a quick shopping trip for some... athleisure wear. Right up his alley. 

“-Samu is pissed. He’s literally staring at him with the biggest ‘go to hell look’ because the critic said his onigiri lacked originality!” Atsumu wheezed out, doubling over in laughter while you’re breaking out into fits of giggles. He’s so enigmatic. “And Samu said,  _ I can say the same about yer toupeé. Have a great day. _ ” He mimics his twin’s voice as his laugh barrels through the studio, wiping tears from his eyes before bursting into another fit of laughter with wheezes in between. 

This is going to be a PR nightmare from seven hells because sporting a brand without a legal sponsorship could send his other deals into a frenzy. But, when has Atsumu ever had a care for the legality of things like this? It makes it harder to even bring that into mind when you two are cracking up over the littlest things. He’s whispering in your ear, clowning people that are walking by just to get you to giggle whilst trying to keep a straight face. And the photographers capture every angle and second of it.

Your agent is like, “You call my people, I call your people” to his PR team who’s screaming if he wasn’t the best setter in the fucking nation they’d already have terminated his contract. And man, Atsumu is going to have a long talk with the team’s publicist tomorrow because pictures are already getting leaked and the public is  _eating it up_.  Hashtag: Olympic Couple Goals. 

—

Atsumu’s scrolling through his social media feed when his eyes light up. “Hey babe! Check this out.” 

You peek over his shoulder. It’s a candid of you two, laughing hysterically with crescent-shaped eyes and the largest grins. Your hand is on his chest, the Nike sign highlighted on the shoulder facing the camera and within focus, while his body is faced forward to show the logo on the jacket. _And_ it was posted on Nike’s verified page. 

“Oh,  shit.” You’re chewing on your gum at a rapid pace with hands placed on both of his shoulders. “Have you gotten a call from your PR, yet?” 

Atsumu continues to scroll through his feed, his voice nonchalant. “What call?” 

“Atsumu.” You rest your chin on his shoulder, watching him double-tap on a picture from some dog page he followed. 

“Hm?” 

“Is your phone on do not disturb?” 

“I don’t think so...” He hovers his thumb over the screen before swiping down the side of his screen to his notifications and sees thirty missed calls, group texts from his team, and fifteen voice messages. “SHIT!”


	2. I See You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time Atsumu sees you.

It was those underage ragers at some quarterback’s house while his family was gone on a business trip when you see him. You’ve known Atsumu for a long time, but not completely know him. It was like you knew of each other and would would have no problems saying hi, a flirtatious remark here and there due to being in the same social circle, but it was the first time you  saw him. 

You were quite close with the quarterback of the school due to being family friends, so being in his good graces meant being welcomed into that circle of teenagers trying to be grown. Teenagers who’ll tailgate like college students before a big high school game. Teenagers that don’t really understand what’s right and what’s wrong because privilege saves face so many times. 

The party got too big and too wild, and someone ended up busting the top floor window to try and swan dive off the balcony into the pool, when the cops showed up and everyone scattered like wildfire. 

Atsumu was one of the unlucky ones who was caught and pulled back into the living room where you and a group of your friends were. He had forced his friends to leave when he caught wind of the situation and was subsequently the one who got caught because he wanted to be the good friend. 

Your friend, Kio, was sobbing into her hands, hiccuping and talking nonsense because she had one too many shots of cheap booze from a convenience store someone’s brother bought for the group. Apparently the police officers were giving out citations for anyone who was under the legal drinking age—which is everyone.

“Why don’t ya just get mommy and daddy to buy out the misdemeanor?” Atsumu finally speaks in a monotone, rolling his eyes when Kio’s eyes snap up to him with an angry look before she deflated and cries even more. 

Quarterback friend, Ryuu glares from the couch opposite from him. He’s feeling it too, doing shotguns in the back with the rest of his team and then keg stands just to show off. “The fuck is that even supposed to mean?” 

Atsumu sighs and rolls his shoulders before he sits up straight and looks him dead in the eye. “I said. Why don’t cha just get mommy and—“ 

“I heard what the fuck you said.” He interrupts and raises from his seat, rolling up the sleeves of his long-sleeve, hands clenching into a fist. 

The blonde gets up out of his own seat, standing right in front of him and easily towered over the 5’9 quarterback. “Then why’d ya ask, dumbass?” 

None of them wanted to step down and Kio’s still sobbing, hiccuping and scrambling to find her phone while you sit next to here at a loss of words. The situation went left as soon as Atsumu opened his mouth, and you didn’t know him as well but you thought he came from a well-off family, also. This must have been personal.

You’re stuck watching them with shock ridden on your face and you hesitantly step up afraid of flyaway punches and an elbow knocking you upside the head on accident. “Hey. Just leave him alone.” 

“Listen t’her.” Atsumu says with a smirk and cracks his neck as he stares down at Ryuu with a look that’s basically begging the dude to buck at him if he dared. “Maybe the only rich kid in here with some sense. Don’t worry, if y’hit me then she can just call her mommy from the country club down the road to bail you out.” 

“Back the fuck up.” 

Emotions were high and fluctuating like a spectrum because, let’s face it, it was a typical situation where kids were rattled to the bone on how a charge would affect their future. Teenagers who were caught looked devastated because the fear and guilt of calling their parents at 1 in the morning to pick them up from a rager that ended up being busted. Third years looking absolutely miserable because a permanent charge over a night of dumb mistakes isn’t worth it and you’re trembling in your shoes because the situation before you is about to get out of hand, so quick. 

“You stepped first, now what ya gonna do about it?” Atsumu’s smirk is ever prevalent, feral almost, and leans into his face. “Not a damn thing,  _ pussy _ .” 

And that’s when Ryuu body checks him and Kio starts crying and screaming for him to stop because Atsumu’s fist connects into his jaw and has the quarterback stumbling back from the recoil. Ryuu growls and charges back at him slamming him into the glass coffee table that shatters with a screeching chime, flecks of glass are scattered throughout and you’re fucking helpless. 

Your gaze darts over to the police officer who’s running in and pulls both of them back from each other. 

“He fucking hit me!” Ryuu yells, thrashing against the officer who’s holding him back before he wiggles himself out and breaks free to run back over to Atsumu, a fist ready to swing into his nose. 

Atsumu grins when Ryuu is yanked back by two officers, but doesn’t hesitate to spit at him. “Rich boy ain’t got any manners, what a shame.” 

“Hey!” The officer holding Atsumu, wrings at his arm. “Knock it off. You two are getting charged with assault!” 

And that’s when his face drops and contorts into rage in a split second. His confidence deflates as quick as falling into quick sand. “I was defending myself!” 

Ryuu’s face is triumphant now as he’s dragged away from the room and he turns back to give Atsumu a mocking grin. “Looks like the rich boy is the only one getting away with this. Go and tell  _ mommy _ to pick up an extra shift.” He mocks before he goes into another room with the officer with a laugh that echoes throughout a quiet living room where everyone is watching. 

He’s seething, brows pinched together with eyes that are flashing red. With tunnel vision, he jerks out of the officer’s grip and sprints down the hallway before slamming into the door that cracked in the force of impact. You can make out what he’s yelling amongst other shouts and sounds of things crashing and falling to the floor.  _Don’t._ Punch.  _ Talk _ . Punch.  _ About _ . Punch.  _ My _ . Punch.  _ Family _ . You can hear the cracks of knuckles against bone and your hands fly to your mouth. Body shaking in fear because all you can make out after is Atsumu saying. “Say something about my mom again you fucking bitch!” 

More cops swarm into the room as other students are surrounding the door to take a video, cheering despite the situation. For who? Whoever’s winning. You can hear cop cars pull up and watch when the students part ways for Atsumu to be handcuffed out the door with three officers following suit. One had a busted lip while the other had a writer up uniform. 

Atsumu has his own busted lip and a bruise that’s purpling above his brow. Eyes narrowed as he’s escorted out before his eyes travel to you and all you see is a sinister smirk that opposes your shocked, wide-eyes one before he vanishes around a corner. 

When Ryuu exits the door, he’s not handcuffed but a hand is covering his swollen eye. His nose is bleeding and his knuckles are bloody. 

“Alright, go ahead and call your parents. Shows over and I’m gonna need to see everyone’s IDs.” Another cop comes in and gestures for you to follow her to a secluded area. 

Your hands are trembling as you try to pull your ID from the case on the back of your phone, tears starting to spill because a citation on your record means you wouldn’t be getting any scholarships into college. Talent scouts would withdraw their verbal agreements. You finally pull the ID out and hand it to her, watching as she looks up from the paperwork to skim over the card. 

“You have a way home?” 

You shake your head. “My mom’s out of town. S-She’s on a business trip. I live down the road, I can walk.. I’m not drunk.”

She looks at you for a moment before dropping her pen on the paperwork and handing the ID back to you with a sigh. “Okay. Stay out of trouble.” 

Your face morphs into confusion. “I’m good to go?”

“Yup. Oh! Tell your mom, she’s my favorite news anchor.” The cop breaks out into a smile before she mimics your mother. “ It’s a great morning to talk about politics and scandals. I’m Rin Watanabe. ” She gushes and you force a smile even though you feel sick to your stomach. 

“Sure. Thank you.. Officer Ito.” 

She waves a dismissive hand before you leave out the door with nothing but a pit in your stomach as you watch your a group cry as they tell their parents and your gaze falls on your familiar group. The ones who meet for Sunday brunches. The ones who are casually chilling next to each other with a smug expression with no care in the world. You feel sick. 

You’re out the door in a second when you feel bile start to creep back up to your mouth and you double over to gasp and take deep breaths. It wasn’t from the cheap booze but a pounding realization that your friends were all assholes and that they’ve no sense for You look up from the ground to see Atsumu about to get into a cop car when you run over to him. “Wait!” 

Atsumu’s head whips over to you and he raises a brow. There’s nothing friendly about his demeanor anymore and you’re sure he’s looking at you as if you’re part of some secret-society, devil worshipping bullshit and that you have horns on your head because he just stares at you with a look that’s telling you to go to hell. First class trip. Skip the line. You’re first to go down the depths of a fiery burning swamp. 

“Uhm. He’s with me.” You choked out, eyes darting back and forth from Atsumu to the cop. 

“Sorry, kid. He’s gotta go to the station an—“

“No! Uh.” You can’t be like the others. You refuse to. Because everything he said was so true. In a world of progressiveness, the least you could do... is look out for him. “Look, he’s staying with me and my mom because his family is out of town and my mom promised his family she’d take care of him.” 

“We’ll call another relative to pick him up.”

You stare at the ground for a moment before you straighten your back and look back up with a glare. “My mom is the news anchor of the Nippon News Network. Do you really think she’ll be proud to tell his parents that his kid ended up in jail because of me?” 

The cop’s eyes widen as he looks between you and Atsumu who’s as surprised as him. 

“If you don’t let him go, I’m going to call my mother right now and let her know that you’ve been manhandling a teenager.” You narrow your eyes and go to your phone, pulling up the call history and show him your mother’s contact information. “They’d love to feature that as breaking news, right?”

There’s a moment of silence and all you can hear is your heart hammering against your chest. There’s a lump in your throat because you’re scared it won’t work. That he’ll throw you in the back of a cop car too, and then you hear the sound of the cop un-cuffing him with grumble. 

“Get out of my sight.” He grumbles before rounding over to his car and you immediately grab Atsumu’s hand and pull him on the sidewalk. 

Your jogs are just long strides to him and you wait until you’re about a half mile down the road before you look back up at him with a frown. “Sorry.”

“For what?” He asks easily, digging his hands into his pocket.  For being an entitled, _snooty nosed ‘I play tennis’ and sometimes I’ll ‘golf with the politicians’ kids’ girl?_ If he wasn’t in a sour mood, he might of cracked a smile at his own joke, but, his twin brother has been calling nonstop and the team is going to be floored that he has a knot upside his head with a busted lip during their next game. He cringes at the backlash from his captain. 

You look down at your shoes. “For not doing something earlier.”

He shrugs, looking away. “Guess yer not so bad after all.” 

“What do you have against people like me?”

“People like you, never have to work for anything. Ya get a slap on the wrist while other people get harsher consequences. People like you, are people I hate.” He shrugs again. “You saved me ‘cause you felt bad about the situation. That doesn’t mean yer any better than them.” 

“Seriously? You can’t classify us in one circle. The least you could say is thank you. You could’ve went to jail!” 

“Exactly my point. Yer  circle thinks the world owes you something for being a decent person. Grow up, doll. It’s not all sunshine and flowers. What have ya actually fought for?” 

You can’t respond. Because what have you fought for? You were given everything. The only child of your mother. Your father having died in the military at a young age and she never remarried. As far as you could remember, everything you wanted you got and it makes you sick to think that he’s right. That you’re a wealth-bred, spoilt kid. 

“That’s what I thought.” He turns to walk in the opposite direction without so much as a glance behind him. 

“Wait!” You jog after him and grasp at the back of his shirt. Because something is compelling you to him and maybe it’s booze or maybe it’s the fact—for lack of better words—you see him as someone other than the person he portrays himself to be in school. Not an arrogant, loud, idiot, dumb, annoying,— you could go on and on, but right now? He shows selflessness because even though he’s not as wealthy as meat-head Ryuu, or has lawyers as parents, Kio, his family was comfortable and he knew he would be better off taking the fall than his other friends. And it dawns on you that him beating the shit out of Ryuu wasn’t out of only cockiness, because you remember how the dude bullied a lanky, short kid at the football field the other day for trying to snoop on their practices. How Kio rejected a guy in front of everyone because he gave her a great-value branded chocolate bar. And you feel sick again because it took you up until the end of your second year of high school to realize that these people you called friends, were all bullies. 

His body turns slightly to face you. “What? Want a kiss as a thanks?” There’s a teasing lilt in his voice that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Thank you!” You step before him and bow, eyes clenched shut because you do thank him. For pulling the masks off of everyone in your social circle. You hear him chuckle and your brow twitches. 

“Yer not so bad. Stick around me. That’s my thanks for saving my ass.” Confidence is intertwined with his words.  _Stick around him._ As if he was the disciple sent from above to ‘save’ the sinners (you). You wanna snort but, you’ll never tell him for a long time that he did save you. He turns around to walk off, the sound of his footsteps growing softer when it stops as if he wants to say something else before he leaves. “Later, shorty!”

That was the night you saw Miya Atsumu. And it was the night he saw you. 


	3. Spent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time Atsumu fucks you.

Atsumu’s sex drive is out of this world unreal. He’s the type that can cum and then be hard a few moments later. He’ll fuck you for hours just to prove a point. That you belong to no one else, but him. 

The sound of his skin slapping against yours reverberated throughout the room. You’re going on your third orgasm and your pussy kept pulsing itself against his cock, sucking him in deeper until he bottomed out. He had your hair wrapped around his fist, pulling it until your back was fully arched against him, head lolling back into the crook of his neck as he whispered how good you were for him. How wet you were, how he’s going to fuck you until your cunt is filled up with his cum. 

His other hand palmed your neck, squeezing slightly as he rutted into you. Cock slipping in out in the sound of squelches from your pussy juices dripping and coating him with a translucent white that was a result of your past orgasm. “You gonna come again, baby?” He muttered against your ear, teeth grazing the shell of it as he releases his grip on your hair and his fingers trailing down the front of your body, through the caverns of your breast before they rest on your swollen clit. 

Your mouth parts to respond to his question,  _yes, yes, yes_ . Eyes heavy as you watch his cock thrust into you through the reflection of the mirror, back pressed against his chest and a hand wrapped behind you to clench at the back of his head. You can feel the tip of his cock rub against your g-spot, before it retracts until only the head of his cock is in your cunt which involuntarily causes a whine to leave your swollen lips. 

You look absolutely wrecked, cheeks flushed and lashes wet from tears because your body was overstimulated. With each thrust you could feel the overwhelming ember start to grow within your gut again; nerves tingling throughout your body as he runs circles against your clit. Your mind was focused on the veins that lined his cock, watching it disappear as your pussy sucks his dick into you and every time he thrusts his hips underneath you, you’re jolting and gasping with each thrust. 

Atsumu’s hand tightens against your neck, watching your eyes flutter shut as another moan escapes you. He can feel your body start to tremble against him, the muscles in your thighs starting to spasm on either side of his legs. “Another one?” He muses, gritting his teeth as he pushes his body off the edge of the bed, causing you to stand also. He positions you right in front of the mirror, bending you over against the dresser until your face is only inches away from the mirror. His dick is still buried deep in you as his hands slide to your hips, a thumb grazing just on the outside of your asshole before he lifts the same hand to smack your ass. “God, yer ass is so fucking fat.” He muttered, clearly satisfied with the flesh before him.

You surge forward from the force with a squeal and watch him through the reflection. All you can make out is his face and the way it contorts into a look of concentration as his fingers dig into your hips to fuck you from behind. “I can’t take it anymore!” You whine, your pussy is throbbing, clit sensitive from the orgasm you just went through. You’re gnawing on your bottom lip, arms trembling to keep you upright and legs shaking. 

“I got you.” He smiles, holding you upright to keep you from falling. He’s looking up from the gorgeous sight of his cock being covered with your cum again to stare at your equally gorgeous face. His cock twitches when he notices how wrecked you look and how he can make out every little detail from your face being so close to the mirror. 

You keep moaning out, _fuck, fuck, fuck_. Stuck between  _fuck me_ and _cum all in me._ You’re exhausted despite your pussy gushing out and dripping down your thighs from being so wet and so turned on. You lower your upper body on the dresser, staring at him with a dazed expression and you won’t dare look away. 

Atsumu’s thumb grazes your asshole again, pushing into it slightly as he continues to rut into you. He’s other hand reaches underneath you to find your clit again and you’re begging him not to make you cum again because you can’t take it. “Aw, y’tapping out on me already? Bad girl.” He tsks with a smirk. 

“That was my third orgasm!” You seethe at him, hissing at how raw your clit feels. You’re at the point where he can literally tap it and your body will jerk from the pleasure and the pain. The way he’s thumbing your ass while sliding in and out of you with an arrogant smirk because he knows only he can make you look fucked out. 

Atsumu clicks his tongue before licking at his bottom lip. “Make it four, yeah?” 

You groan, jutting out your bottom lip, feeling tears well up because a finger in your ass and his dick in your cunt is throwing you over another edge. He doesn’t even need to stimulate your clit because the angle he’s fucking you in is hitting your g-spot over and over again. This orgasm comes much quicker than the other three due to him muttering how he’s close to coming and how his thrusting is starting to lose his rhythm 

“I’m gonna—come!” You gasp out.

“Me too, baby. Come with me, ‘m gonna fill you up so good. Gonna give ya a baby.” He groaned, cock slamming against the nub of your cervix as his knuckles are turning white from his grip on your hips. 

You feel him twist your hair into his fist as he yanks you upright, a mix of pain and pleasure surging through you as his other hand goes to your clit and he’s rubbing harsh circles. Your cunt starts to throb and your vision goes white as you come again, squirting all over his palm and gushing out into the plank floor beneath you. 

Atsumu’s groan is much louder. “Thats so fucking sexy, baby, you’re squirting all over my hand. Dirty, dirty girl.” He thrusts into your cunt a few more times before he lets out another load groan, his cock twitching inside of you as he cums all in you. Walls painted white from how much he came and there’s drops of diluted, white cum hitting the floor and mixing with the puddle that you caused. 

He leans you forward against the dresser, hands on either side of you and lets out a ragged breath as he buries his head into the crook of your neck and presses a lingering kiss. 

Both of you are trying to catch your breaths, his cock still buried in you even though it’s in a semi-soft state at the moment and you grimace when you shift your legs from the sensitivity of your pussy. “I’m spent babe.” 

Atsumu chuckles before he bursts into laughter with you, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “ _I’m spent babe_ .” He mocks.

You jut your ass out against him in an attempt to push him off of you and all it does is make his eyes darken before a smirk replaces his laugh. “Oh, wanna go again?”


	4. Ace Ace Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time you and Atsumu show your habits.

Atsumu and you have always been one to start traditions, whether it be from weekly study dates or dinner at a diner down the road from the school with your tennis team and his volleyball team. Whether it be from Friday night drinks at your home with the Black Jackals or once a month vacations to de-stress and pull the plug from the public for a weekend. It was like clockwork and was what kept your relationship together for so long. 

The first time you manage to get enough guts to approach Atsumu before his game is when you’re high off an adrenaline rush from winning your singles matches back to back.  You have just finished up your match when you realized the time and sprinted to the gym and as soon as you stepped in, eyes fell on you. So, it’s safe to say that wearing a tennis skirt with your polo shirt made you stand out, in not the best way. It was kind of awkward and you shift around a bit, crossing your arms and standing straight up because you really don’t want to come off as insecure or out of place. 

But, it’s all worth it when the faux blonde catches you from his peripheral. He turns his head slightly to check you out before a wide smile blooms and he jogs over to you. He leans his cheek towards you, silently asking for a kiss before the game starts and you happily oblige to kissing his cheek. “Ace it, babe.”

“Thanks, doll.”He kisses the top of your forehead before he jogs back to his position, a confident aura settling around him. At this point, everyone on the team finally notices you and gives a friendly wave with amused smirks. 

—

You were practicing your swings when you heard someone cough behind you.

“Is she even your girlfriend or were you lying? It’s like you don’t exist to her.” A voice breaks through your concentration. 

“Shut up! She’s just in the zone right now!” 

“This is another one of yer fake dating jokes, huh?” 

“You asshole! We are dating!” 

“I call bullshit.” 

“Why you-!”

You finally turn around with an irritated gaze. “Please, shut up.” 

Atsumu’s eyes widen momentarily, an arm around Osamu’s neck stuck holding him in a chokehold, before he gives you a lazy smirk. “I love it when ya talk sexy to me.” 

His twin makes a disgusted face but gives you a slight wave. “Good luck.” Osamu, wanting nothing more than to irritate Atsumu even more, gives a pearly-white smile in response ,  counting down how long until the blonde gets irritated. 

“Why do ya smile for him but not for me?!” 

You roll your eyes and step forward, angling your cheek right at his lips. 

Atsumu doesn’t hesitate and kisses it, grabbing the back of your neck to turn you so he can kiss you properly. “Ace it, doll.” 

“Thanks, babe.” You grin and turn around to walk back to the court with a skip in your step. The tennis team watch with curious gazes and wave at the twins with an amused smirk. 

A simple kiss for good luck. A tradition that was set to follow you two even into present day. 

—

The screams and cheers from the crowd on opposing ends is like a drug that you’re addicted to. You can feel the excitement and the anticipating dancing all around you as you take a moment to observe your surroundings. Commentators are prepping in front of cameras while the umpire’s are finally walking onto the courts. 

You’re wrapping an overgrip on your racket handle when you hear a sharp whistle behind you and turn your head towards the sound. Smiling and forgetting all about your racket, you saunter over to the overhead where Atsumu was leaning over the railing with his cheek resting on his palm.He’s wearing a black hoodie with a baseball cap and sunglasses, trying so desperately not to stand out and failing miserably because people are wondering why he’s wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day.

“They’re going to know it’s you.” You tease, nodding your head towards the press that are watching you like a hawk, curious to see if it was indeed Miya Atsumu, setter of the Black Jackals.

He snorts. “Maybe my girl is cheating on me with some fan who’s pretending t’be me.” 

You roll your eyes and pivot on your heel suppressing an amused grin from his theatrics. 

“C’mere!” He calls out, taking off his sunglasses to place them on the brim of his cap and extends an arm out to reach for you. 

You hear someone scream his name and laugh, turning around to face him again. “Yes, ‘Tsumu?” 

Despite the fans calling out his name, his attention is only on you. He leans down over the railing as you stand on your tip-toes, turning your head slightly so his lips can graze against your cheek, teeth nipping at your skin; subtle enough for no one to notice and hard enough for a blush to form on your cheeks. “Ace it, baby.” 

You blow him a kiss before you head back to the court. Five years later and the tradition still stands. 


	5. One Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time Atsumu comforts you.

It’s a known fact that you don’t know pain until you experience it first hand. The heart wrenching, tear inducing, can’t catch a breath pain. The one that wells into anger pain. The one that makes you wanna lash out at anyone and anything pain. The pain that makes you realize it’s reality and not some sick nightmare.

Tennis is a sport with constant pivoting and it means having excellent footwork. One misstep and you’re done. Of course, you can try to continue playing despite your injury, battle it out toe to toe until your body collapses from overexertion. But, then comes the possibility of a career-ending injury. And any athlete knows what happens if someone just takes even a couple months to recover. You fall behind and you get forgotten. Just like that.

You felt somewhere in your leg start to give out as you chased after a backhand slice and crashed to the ground. You remember biting back tears as you forced yourself back up, your coach and agent watching you with a look that says _don’t you dare give up now._

So, you continue to play, despite the throbbing in your leg telling you that your body is going into overdrive. It’s when you see her doing a swing volley that you instinctively sprint to the service line and that’s the exact moment when the injured leg stiffens up. Your body surges forward even though your leg is locked into place, and you can basically hear the muscles and tendon tear. Your body was starting to lock up from the shock of pain and you fell on your side, hands splaying to ground to cushion your fall and prevent your head from swinging into the concrete. Using the last of your strength to roll onto your back, your eyes blink blearily into the sky. You can’t get up. _You can’t get up._ Tears blur your vision, your breaths are uneven, and the pain flares throughout your body, stabbing against the skin and scraping the bones.

You don’t hear sounds of cheering from the crowds anymore, only the throbbing staccato that rings throughout your ears as you bite back a scream. Now, was it from the pain alone or from the fact you understand your career’s over? You can’t even comprehend whether or not it was a torn ACL or a ruptured Achilles.

One of the umpires and your coach run up to you and all you can make out is the distorted sound of your coach yelling for someone to call a medic. You choke out another sob because your career is over and that was worse than the pain itself.

—

MSBY Black Jackal won another game and the team is standing in the interview room for a post-game press conference. Atsumu notices the press glancing back and forth from him and he’s confused as to why. He hasn’t gotten a moment to look at his phone, did something happen? Was his performance not up to par? Did someone say something about him? Did they find out about his engagement?

“I have a question for #13.”

His ears perk up and he has a lazy smile on his face, ready to answer whatever question they ask with ease and finesse. His face suddenly drops as they question his knowledge on whether or not he was aware about your injury. _Injury?_

Every athlete knows the seriousness of damaging any part of the body. The body itself is what makes an athlete and it’s the temple that homes everything an athlete is worth. And every athlete knows that once damage is done to that temple, the road to recovery is more than rehabilitation. It’s playing catch-up. Every stat that’s public will be scrutinized and compared post-injury. An athlete is like an expensive collectible action figure. And once it’s broken, no one wants it anymore.

“Irrelevant!” His coach shouts.

“My apologies.” The interview clears her throat and glances down at her note pad and redirects her question to someone else. The answer was already answered by his facial expression. He didn’t know.

He feels fear creep into the crevices of his mind, tunnel vision occurring as her question rings throughout his ears over and over again. His teammates look at him from their peripheral and they’re thinking the same thing he is. Your career is over.

Once the press conference ends, he grabs his duffle bag and his phone, already walking towards the parking deck through the back entrance. Hinata might have said something to him, but his focus was on nothing except getting to you and he would have to apologize for giving him the cold shoulder later.

“Let me call Kanoko.” Bokuto offers. “They’re good friends.”

Atsumu only nods, gnawing on his bottom lip. His grip on his duffle bag tightens until his knuckles are white. He’s trying to figure out where you are, where you’d be transported to. Would they call him? Were you unconscious? Already in surgery?

It’s a known fact that Atsumu wears his heart on his sleeve. Every emotion he feels is exuded through actions or words and he’s an open book to all his teammates. His lack of words is an indication in itself. Not waiting for Bokuto to end the call with Kanoko, he finds his car, determined to make it to wherever you are. He’s weaving through the highway, gassing it to get to you as he talks to Osamu over the bluetooth in the car.

“I’m scared Samu.” He admits cursing when he lands into traffic getting onto the ramp towards the hospital.

“Don’t let her see that.” Osamu sighs and pauses for a bit shuffling on the other line. “You have t’be strong.”

Atsumu bites back a sob. It’s like he can feel your grief from miles away. “I know she’s devastated.”

“She needs you.”

“I know.” His voice breaks and he sniffles, rubbing his eyes that were starting to blur as he drives through the congested city.

He wants to punch the windshield, to scream in his car. The desire to light the whole damn vehicle up is becoming more ideal because he feels your pain without needing to be there. He can feel your heart break. Feel the dread and the light leaving your eyes when they tell you the news and he can only hope that you can feel him too. Feel his heart trying to find you. Feel his soul cry out to you that he’s going to be there. That he _will_ be there.

The two sit on the phone in silence for a period of time before Osamu breaks the void. “Tell sis’ the family loves her.”

Atsumu cracks a smile, chuckling despite his tears that are falling. “I will. I’ll text you when I get there.”

When he sees you, his heart aches. He has always hated seeing you upset, sometimes from the fault of his own. But, he’s never seen you heartbroken before and just one look at you makes him want to ensure you would never have to feel it again.

Your eyes are bloodshot from crying and despite being in an immaculate threshold of pain, you still sit up from the cot and a gargled cry escapes your lips.

“Oh, my baby.” He whispers, wrapping you in a tight hug almost as if he was shielding you from the world as you bawl into his chest. He kisses the crown of your head, running a hand up and down your exposed back from the hospital gown. 

All he can make out is you repeating the same sentence. Each sentence being more indistinguishable from how hard you’re crying and he lifts his head up slightly to stare at the ceiling, blinking away his own tears. _I’m done. I’m done. I’m done._ You are done. The doctor noting that recovery would take longer than average. That you would never be able to get back to a pre-injury status and even if you did, it would take years and by that time, you would be years behind your peers.

“H-how was your game?”

Leave it to you to still make an effort to ask about him. His arms are still around you even though you’ve pulled away to look up at him. Despite how distressed you were, your small smile was transmissible enough for him to smile back. _God, he loves you_. “We aced it, baby.”

Your smile widens. “You’re gonna play for Japan. I’m not worried in the least bit.”

He doesn’t respond and opts on just holding you in silence while waiting for the doctor to return. What can he say to make you feel better? _You’ll be okay?_ That’ll only piss you off. _You’ll play for the next Olympics?_ You’ll throw your engagement ring at him. A part of him thinks making a joke would ease the somber atmosphere. _Should’ve done that couple’s exercise I wanted us to do in the morning *wink wink*._ You would kill him. He concluded sometimes silence is the only answer and he finds comfort in knowing that you’re in a better mood than he suspected.

In an attempt to lighten the situation, you scrunch your nose up and push at his chest. “You stink.”

“Brat.” He responds with a light chuckle and takes your hand. Looking down at it, he inspects the engagement ring with mirth, still surprised at how perfect it looks on you as he moves your finger under the light. Twisting and turning to see the diamond sparkle in each angle, he’s captivated by how well it suits you. He’d have to thank Kiyoko and Kanoka in their valuable help later on.

“Tsumu?”

“Yes?”

“You’re going to go to the Olympics, okay?”

Atsumu’s eyes widen at you. “Ok—”

“And you will win.” You interject to clear your throat. “You guys better fucking win, Atsumu.”

He takes a moment to absorb what you said and kisses your ring before squeezing your hand. “We will.”

They say a couple is truly in love when the heart beats the same rhythm. When his victories become yours. When your pain becomes his. When you fall, he holds you. He becomes a towering figure and you a sturdy foundation. He’s the person that can read you as well as he can read a play. You’re the one who keeps him grounded. The two of you are bound together like a rooted tree. Love that accentuates each other like the sun and the moon. Through all the trials and tribulations, he is yours and you are his.


	6. Blacklist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time Atsumu proposes to you.

You’re practicing your swings at a country club when you hear loud chatter behind you. Usually, the club is quiet and relaxing so the noise of boisterous laughs is like scraping chalk on a chalkboard. Despite the slight hiccup in aesthetics for the day, the sun is still shining, which means it’s a beautiful day to play tennis. There’s not a cloud in sight and you can make out the distant sounds of golf balls being swung, clinks of champagne glasses at the terrace on top of the hill, the birds chirping, and the springy and thudding pop from your racket hitting the ball. It’s a perfect sound of an ace as it lands right on the baseline and you’re quite pleased with your accuracy. You lift your racket again, anticipating and hoping for the same noise, tossing another ball up when obnoxious laughter interrupts your focus again. The ball hits the cement with a thud, bouncing and rolling away and your face contorts into annoyance. 

Huffing in frustration, you turn around to squint with a hand above your eyes, ready to give the best death glare you can to whoever had the balls to be an inconsiderate asshole at the country club. You freeze as soon as you make out the group of men on top of the hill. 

Atsumu and Bokuto are wearing too-tight golf trousers with a tucked in polo shirt and visor. They’re using a golf club as a cane and you can already make out what’s going on just by Atsumu’s care-free grin. Uncaring of the attention on them, Bokuto pretends to walk with a limp, saying something to the twin before both of them start laughing again. Beside them is Sakusa and Hinata, dressed normally—thank god. But Hinata looks distressed and sick and you’re praying to any deity above that the poor tangerine-haired male doesn’t do what he does best... which is throwing up.

Beside you, your tennis partner is all too amused, cradling her racket in her arms while she watches the scene unfold. You think you can hear her mentioning how the salt and pepper haired male was enamoring but, it only falls to zoned-out ears.

You’re at the point in the relationship where you don’t bother to question his motives and what he does in his free time anymore. Atsumu does what Atsumu wants, unfortunately. Thankfully, what he does want to do only includes doing what boys do and if he decides to make a fool of himself, that’s on him. Despite your leniency in giving him his own space and freedom—as a good girlfriend should— you’re left wondering why right now? And are they... _drunk_? It’s only 11am.

Atsumu is howling when Hinata face plants down the steps. He’s heaving from laughter, no microphone needed for everyone to hear. “Oh, shit!”

  
It causes patrons to turn and look at the commotion with displeasure. And as if they knew who he was already, you could tell they were automatically associating the faux blonde with you from the many times he would accompany you to help you as a ball-boy.

Hinata rolls over once he lands on the pavement, holding his head in pain before he guffaws from the situation. “I’m-I’m in pain—Whose idea was to put steps right here?!”

  
Bokuto is giggling like a mad-child, holding onto the railing of the steps as he double overs moaning about how his stomach is hurting from laughing so much.   
  


“Come on, they’re embarrassing!” You whine, ducking your head and pulling her with you towards another area of the club. The last thing you’d want to happen is to be found by the man seeking you because you already know a drunk Atsumu is a reckless one and you’re already on thin ice with the country club after he so happened tried to play tennis with you and knocked the owner of the club upside a head with a tennis ball from his serve.

You’re almost sure you’re in the clear, when you hear your beloved boyfriend shout your name. You’re not sure if he spotted you or if he’s just calling your name out to try to find you, but, you still break out in a sprint with your partner in tow. It’s kind of comedic, you look like a gazelle as you run down the golf course, dodging flying golf balls and apologizing to the golfers for interrupting their plays 

She’s cracking up even more as she follows behind you. Once you slow down, she looks back and gasps. “They just stole a golf cart.”

“What?!” You turn around to see Bokuto driving the golf cart with Atsumu hanging out of it, a wild grin on his face as he cheers loudly for him to drive faster. It’s a known fact that the two together is dangerous for this very reason. Their fun consists of doing things that come to the top of their mind, two daring individuals who have a knack for an adrenaline rush.

  
Sakusa is sitting with his arms crossed on the back of the cart beside Hinata who’s throwing up from the motion. There’s a trail of throw up scattering the greenery and you can already hear the slew of curse words from their PR team. 

Bokuto is swerving off the paved path and running tire marks into the freshly-mowed grass. He’s yelling for people to move out the way as he drives towards where you were with a determined look. He looks ridiculous while he tries to drive the cart like a race car and Atsumu is the background making car noises to boost up Bokuto’s ego. The golf cart comes to a screeching halt and forced everyone to surge forward. 

“Tsum-Tsum has something he wants to tell you!” Bokuto slurs, stumbling out the cart and trying to lean against it with his arms crossed, squinting his eyes because the sun is too damn bright. You applaud him for still being able to stand because if Bokuto was drunk, that meant he was maybe six shots in already. Granted that he didn’t do back to back shots and timed it proportionately 

Before you can respond, Hinata falls out of the back seat with a hand over his mouth and another over his stomach while Sakusa is mortified and backing away slowly. “Sakusa...” Hinata groans, a burp escaping his mouth as he reaches for him before he throws up on the grass again.

“Get away from me.”

Atsumu’s grinning ear to ear despite the train wreck in front of you and hops out of the cart with a flamboyant gesture before he grabs your hands. “Hey gorgeous, I love ya~.”

You raise a brow and glance around, noticing a crowd starting to form of irritated golfers. PR is going to be so mad at them. You would pay to sit in on their meeting. Your voice is cautious and leveled. “I love you too.” 

Atsumu’s leans forward to you with glossy eyes. The man is a lightweight and you can bet your bottom dollar that he’s only probably had three drinks at most.

“Let’s get married.” He coos, puckering his lips.

“HELL YEAH!” Bokuto shouts, fist-pumping the air. “Say yes!”

Your mouth drops and your friend is biting her lip to burst out from laughter.

“C’mon, pleaseeee,” Atsumu steps closer to you and abruptly drops to one knee while swaying and trying to hold himself upright. He digs into his pocket and grumbles, lifting a finger for you to wait a moment before he’s digging into the other pocket. With a frustrated huff, he looks around the grass and then behind him. “Bokkun, THE RING!”

Bokuto’s already wiping a tear from his eye with trembling lips. The man is wrecked because you’re sure he’s not even completely aware of the situation. “Huh?”

“Where’s the ring?!”

“Oh!” Bokuto fishes in his pockets for a moment, brows furrowing and frowns. “Tsum-Tsum... didn’t you have it?”

Atsumu’s eyes widens and he looks back up at you, still on one knee. The visor on top of his head is super cute and if you weren’t at a loss of words, you’d probably have commented on him needing to wear golf attire more often. “Baby, I can’t find the ring!”

It’s chaos. Absolute chaos because Hinata is sitting back in the golf cart, face turning blue with his arms over his stomach as he mumbles incoherent words. Sakusa is as far away as possible but still watching on, you can make out a flush in his skin despite the mask covering his face and however they convinced the man to get drunk is in god’s hand at this point. Bokuto is face first in the turf trying to find the ring, hands grasping and pulling out freshly mowed grass with frustrated growls. Such a good wingman. And your friend is giggling, a hand covering her mouth despite the mayhem. She’s laughing now but try dealing with these guys on a regular basis.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS DOING?”

Everyone’s head whips to the captain of the Black Jackals running behind their publicist who’s red in the face, angry, and yelling at everyone patron who’s recording that they’ll be sued if they don’t delete the video. You can see Bokuto scramble to stand up, saluting the publicist even though he’s swaying back and forth. Meian looks extremely apologetic, more-so to the onlookers than his teammates because he keeps yelling out apologies after apologies to everyone they pass. 

“I’m trying t’propose, damnit!” Poor Atsumu, he’d regret that when he’s sober.

“YOU’RE ABOUT TO BE BENCHED IF YOU DON’T GET BACK. NOW.”  
  


It only took them a few seconds to stand at attention in a single file line. Atsumu has an arm wrapped around your waist because he’s scared shitless and his coping mechanism was to hold you close as he gets chewed out for the next thirty minutes. The owner comes flying down to where you all were at and not so kindly stated that you were blacklisted from the country club. MSBY was blacklisted from the country club. And icing on the cake is that there was a leak on some news page online that shows Atsumu on one knee so everyone’s convinced you’re engaged now. And your poor boyfriend is subject to a three hour long meeting on proper conduct and what it means to represent a national volleyball team. Go figure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized it can be kinda confusing with how chapters are written. This takes place way before reader’s injury, a little bit after the photo shoot.


	7. Hurt People Hurt People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time Atsumu loses you.

Atsumu has dealt with a handful of painful experiences that he has always had the capability to overcome. Yes, his way of handling some things isn’t always the most mature and yes, he regrets some of the things he has come to blurt out in a period of grief and anger. However, out of the handful of pain he has felt, the one that hurt the most was losing you.

He has a habit of putting things on the back burner when he became a first division volleyball player and he always trusted that you understood because you were also a professional athlete. So, when he decides to do some team-building or show his face at events with MSBY, he doesn’t really think too much of it, only sending you a text that may or may not get a response.

**Tsumu** : _I’m going to be here for awhile. Don’t wait up, sorry._

The one time Atsumu has a day off is the exact time you’re supposed to be coming back from a tournament. His bad habit is that when he has something for too long, he can get bored. Especially when there’s been a lack of excitement. Besides, he’s young and for the past year, he’s had nothing but new experiences that makes his eyes twinkle in awe.

When he’s left to stare into your shared apartment that’s empty, it’s where he feels most vulnerable. Alone with too much time on his hands.It’s when he realizes that you both are on two different ends of a spectrum. The specific lapse in judgement and time is when he starts to wonder. What would it be like to have someone that’d be at home for him, waiting?

**You:** _I missed my flight. Don’t wait up, sorry._

He looks at your text for a moment. Did he really want to be with someone that was never home? His mind starts to wander.

—

Atsumu is a man who always got what he wanted because he fought tooth and nail for it with little to no regards for the consequences of his choices. It was only evident that arguments would ensue from his fault of immaturity. The most damaging argument you had with Atsumu was when he first signed with MSBY. He was an excited young adult, so giddy, and enamored with the life he so rightfully earned. He signed with a team that he desperately wanted to play for and it was everything he wanted. The joy in his eyes, the way he carried himself, the things he was finally able to afford, he was living his dream and you were nothing but happy for him.

Until you realized the lifestyle was causing him to stay out later at the clubs, be seen in pictures with models and other female athletes, coming home at four in the morning—way after last call. You had fully trusted him, both of you promising to each other that if you started to feel like you wanted to stray, you two would tell each other. What you didn’t expect was for him to come up to you one day and actually tell you.

“I don’t wanna be with you anymore.”

Your heart dropped to the deepest pits, falling into an abyss that you couldn’t fish out. The guilt and remorse in his eyes that seemed to stab at the same area you were hurting. “Why?”

“‘Dunno. Just don’t.” He shrugs, chewing the inside of his cheek while he stares off.

How could you blame him? You both saw it coming and did nothing except let it happen. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you steel your emotions. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

_Was he?_ You take a moment when you feel a rush of heat rise to your face, eyes that want to water, heart that’s constricting against your chest. “I should go.”

When did it become so different? He doesn’t try to hold you nor call for you. He doesn’t regret his choice.

You two begin to live your separate lives. Volleyball is still first in his mind. He finds comfort in temporary. Temporary women and temporary joy in the things he buys for himself. Nights would be occupied doing the same events, full of temporary moments that would fill the ache in his chest and he concludes it was a comfortable routine to help him pass time. Especially during off-season, when he had too much time on his hands. If he wasn’t with Osamu, he was with the boys, drinking and then bringing someone—who he would never see again—home. It’s when he sees you at the same club with a group of girls does he start to miss you. Actually miss you and not the comfort of you. He remembers walking up to you, greeting your friends and you with a dazzling smile, chest swelling with pride when he sees your shocked expression. Maybe he caught you at the right moment, because you end up in his bed that night with him, bodies intertwined with each other as he whispers drunken love confessions to you. _Wait for me. I love you, just wait for me to figure it out._ He wakes up to an empty bed and feels like he should have done the walk of shame when you unfollow him off of all social media.

Unfortunately, his moments of drunken thoughts and liquid courage, gives him the confidence to send you text messages and post stories on his social media, hoping that’ll you see it and that’ll you reach out to him in a fit of rage because then, at least he knows you’re still there and that you still care. You never respond to him or view his stories. He’s starting to miss you.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look you up to see what’s new while he’s getting ready to go the gym, tapping to your tagged photos to see who you’ve been around. Purposely liking pictures of you in it and posting subliminal captions on his posts and stories that sounds more like responses to yours. There was one time, you posted a picture in Cabo on a yacht with the caption, _‘Let me drive the boat.’_ Atsumu’s first thought was to post a story of Shoyou pouring a bottle of liquor straight down his throat before he looks straight into the camera and winks with his tongue out, adding a caption, _‘Drove the boat.’_ Okay, maybe it wasn’t subliminal and maybe he did get chewed out by his PR team for it, but he was always known to be uncaring of repercussions and if that means you would give him some type of attention, he was game. You still don’t respond to or view his stories. He misses you.

He would be a liar if he said he didn’t turn on the tv and flip to the sports channel to watch you play on the WTA tour. A smile grows on his face when he watches you turn to the crowd and make your notable hand gesture whenever you made a match point after a long rally. A fire that burned in your eyes as you play the sport you love, investing every pain you felt into honed skills. You were thriving and it only caused his heart to ache. He misses you.

Several nights later, he’s fairly drunk again when Bokuto pulls up something he thought would be news to share right before Atsumu was going to get up and approach the girl who’s been eyeing him. What he doesn’t expect to see, is you wrapped in the arms of a man he knows. The wide grin on your face, dusty cheeks, and lowered eyes. It was a candid photo of you two, swaying to a song, bodies too close to each other. Dress too revealing, too bright, too sequined. Most importantly, you’re happy. You’re happy with someone else and that hurts.

He pulls his phone out, sending a final text to you, slurring out some words to no one in particular that he would most likely regret in the morning. Finally triumphant when the text sends, he throws his phone to Bokuto before he saunters over to the woman leaning against the bar, masking his pain with a charming smile as he whispers something into her ear.

The truth is that Atsumu and you were part of the trajectory of the right person and wrong timing. All he wanted was for you to wait for him to mature and get over his infatuation with the perks of being an athlete. He was too young with a future that was far too bright. He was enthralled by the fast lifestyle with the money, the cars, and people who never said no to him. Who wouldn’t be? It just so happens that he didn’t know how to balance his relationship on top of his lifestyle and that’s what made it a million times worse when he saw someone that could with the exact person he wanted. He’s lost you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack - Drifting by G-Eazy — I shouldn't have played, but I played it; And now I'm missin' your love.


	8. Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time you see Atsumu after your break-up.

Charity events regarding sports were always more about sports than it was charity, so the fact that you had to show up only made you anxious, especially because you were supposed to be on the WTA tour in a couple of days. You weren’t anxious regarding the underlying meaning of the event, it was more-so that you knew this would be the first time you would be in the same room with Atsumu after your lapse in judgement when you ended up in bed with him. When you see Atsumu and a girl on his arm, leading her to the table where the MSBY team was sitting at, you felt dread in being noticed. Your first instinct was to pivot and hide behind a crowd of people, the second was to just walk past and pretend like you didn’t notice. Your window of opportunity for the first choice was slimming by the second and with a down of the glass of champagne in your hand, you steel your shoulders and start to walk past the table.

As if life wanted to curse you, time seemed to slow down when you feel a familiar set of eyes on you and from your peripheral, you see those warm brown hues directly on you. A few moments later, the time warps back to normal as you continue to walk past them, thanking the deity above that someone recognized you and grabbed your attention with a call of your name and a warm hug.

The thing about these charity events is that almost all athletes were there, and as if fate had a funny way of teaching things, your name card is at a table completely adjacent from MSBY where Atsumu has a clear view of you. Thankfully, there were tall players gathered at your table and you exhale the breath you’ve been holding in. Unfortunately, you could still feel Atsumu staring daggers at you and the pettiness in you wanted to pull his arm candy to the side and tell her to control her man.

Your heart betrayed the emotions displayed on your face, beating erratically as if it were telling you that your feelings for him was still there no matter how deep you wanted to hide it. It didn’t help that your willpower was thrown out the window that night you saw him in the club, and then he had the audacity to tell you to wait for him. Who even does that? Miya Atsumu. That’s who. And speaking of the devil, himself. You can hear his conversation, word for word, as if he were yelling it for the whole world to hear.

“Isn’t she gorgeous? She was on the last issue of Vogue and I’m tellin’ ya now, I’ll marry her in a heartbeat if she’ll let me.”

Ouch. You steal a glance towards the woman he was talking about and there’s a sour taste in your mouth. Japan’s top model, a natural beauty and that’s when you feel the walls closing in on you. Conversations directed to you going unnoticed when you reach for the refilled glass of your champagne and chug it before excusing yourself. You find yourself in the empty lobby and breathe a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing when you realize that there’s no one else to approach you. If anyone were to ask you how you felt regarding a certain twin, you’d lie and say you’re okay. But, when there’s no one around, you can stop lying to yourself and admit that you’re not okay. Even if you were okay, no one would rightfully admit that they feel fine seeing their ex with someone who gets paid for their good looks. It was like a jab to your own confidence, especially when you backpedaled on your track of moving on to sleep with him. Consequently believing the words he told you that night only brought you back to square one in your quest of getting over him.

If there’s one thing that lifted your spirits, it’s a simple text that appeared on your phone while you were scrolling aimlessly through your feed.

**T. Kuroo** : _I got a bottle of wine with your name on it and a new documentary series we can binge with a whole lot of carbs to consume. You game?_

**You** : _Can’t. At this charity event that seems more like I’m just eye-candy for rich people to invest in._

**T. Kuroo** : _Understandable. I’ll save it for later lol._

“Did anyone tell ya how beautiful you are in gold?”

Your head whips up from your phone and you feel your heart sink to the bottom pit of your stomach. The bane of your existence for the past year is standing in front of you. Every subliminal post directed towards you sent to you by friends. Even Kuroo teased you about the ‘ _drive the bo_ at’ one. “Yes, a few.”

“Damn.” Atsumu tilts his head with his usual smirk, his gaze inviting as he checks you out from the tip of your head down to your toes, lingering on your curves with a low whistle.

Of course, he would be a dog in this particular moment. You wouldn’t tell him how handsome he looks in his suit, nor would you mention the glossiness in his eyes from having one too many drinks. There wasn’t any point to dwell in conversation with him, even though you so desperately wanted to tell him to take care of himself more. He was going out too much, and you’ve heard from quiet phone calls around Kuroo they were watching him more than ever due to his abrasive public ventures.

“Seriously, ya look good,” he bites his lip, the next words coming out more forced, “... and happy.”

To give him a reaction would only egg him on, you knew him. Instead, you opt on not responding and give him a cordial smile. “Bye, Miya.”

You turn around and pull out your phone, not noticing his smirk drop or the longing look he was giving you.

Maybe it was the fact you still cared for him, but without looking up, you pause for a moment. For just a moment, you’re contemplating on whether or not you want to turn around to actually look at him. But, the thing about Atsumu is if you gave him an inch, he would take a foot and you knew better than anyone that unless he learned himself, he would never change. Opting on your better judgement, you continue to walk towards the exit.

**You** : _Coming over, have that documentary ready and a straw for the wine, lol._


	9. I Don’t Wanna Be Your Ex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time Atsumu tries.

When Atsumu saw you at the event, he wanted to punch a wall, honestly. There was something particularly hurtful in your smiles that weren’t directed at him anymore. Something in the way you looked at him as if  _ he _ was the charity case of the evening. Despite his pride taking a blow, his heart still did flips when you walked through the door. Hands down, you were breathtaking and he wasn’t sure if it was his mind subconsciously telling him that women always looked better post-breakup. There was a specific glow to you that captivated him and it took every ounce of control not to make a scene by going over to you. To just feel your lips again. He would take whatever at this point, whether it be his cheek or his shoulder blade, preferably lips, but he wouldn’t be picky in this case.

Someone had mentioned Atsumu’s date that deterred his attention from you, quickly turning back around around to engage in conversation with the team.

“—I’ll marry her in a heartbeat if she’ll let me.” Atsumu joked, grinning at his date who shook her head fondly. She was one of his good friends who actually rejected his advances, telling him she wouldn’t sleep with a man who still wasn’t over his ex. For the most part, it gave him clarity on the situation. On the other hand, it still didn’t stop him from being a complete airhead, so when she noticed you got up from your chair, she gave him a slight nudge and nodded towards your retreating figure. A silent gesture to go after you and he hesitated. His voice was barely above a whisper. “What if she shuts me down?”

“At least try.” She responded. “Go, looks like she’s leaving.” 

When he found you in the lobby, he cleared his throat, which you didn’t notice. His mind kept coming up blank, which meant whatever was going to get spewed out his mouth, he’s just going to have to roll with it like he meant to say it. You weren’t phased by his question and your response says it all. What he wanted to say was,  _ I miss you.I promise I’ll change _ _._ Instead, all that came out was  _ damn _ . Damn because all he could think about was how good you looked and how his heart was beating at a really fast pace because he’s nervous.  He could see a flash of your anger from a mile away while he was trying to find the right thing to say and when his window of opportunity closed to actually voice his thoughts, his head dropped, swallowing the bitter taste on his tongue. 

—

When he sees Kuroo at one of his practices, weeks later, he grimaces, opting on his better judgement to pretend he didn’t see him. Besides, what did he look like asking the head of the sports promotion division if he was dating his ex? Working on himself meant withholding a reaction from everything that made him uncomfortable and after a not so nice heart-to-heart from quite literally everyone, they all concluded he needed to get his shit together before he ended up in Division 2, maybe even Division 3. At least, that’s what his PR team said. 

“Atsumu, a word?” 

_No, go fuck yourself_. Biting back the snarky response, Atsumu steps off the court, following him around the corner and crosses his arms. What did you see in this guy anyways? There’s no way your schedule lined up with his, unless you were seeing him at night and that’s when he feels sick. _Are_ _you seeing him at night?_

“—I’m just looking out for you. Maybe kind of calm down from the parties for a bit.” 

Atsumu’s taken aback, blinking a couple of times. He only caught the end of what he said, too busy trying to bite his tongue and wondering why you would pick this guy over himself. “What?” 

“If you can just chill out for awhile, my division and the PR team will greatly appreciate it.” Kuroo claps his shoulder before walking away. 

Atsumu narrows his eyes. _Chill out?_ “Hey!” 

Kuroo turns his head and raises a brow. 

He’s almost proud of himself because his next words that came out sounded much more cool and collected than his thoughts. “Thank you.” 

He’s going to try. 

—

The first time Atsumu tries, you’re at a country club with your mother’s friend’s son and he’s fuming because the guy in front of you is considerably shorter than him—180cm—and he knows that guy because he was Japan’s no. 4 representative for tennis and he is livid. Quite literally, steam is coming out of his ears. 

“Mada mada daze.” The man teases from the other side of the court, angling his racket at you, before he serves the ball. 

His catchphrase only forces you to play harder as the both of you rally on for what feels like forever. The only sounds you can focus on is the music of the ball hitting the strings on your racket while you pivot back and forth to return the ball.  There’s not really any time for you to notice Atsumu sitting on the steps and watching from afar. He’s munching on onigiri aggressively. It’s been about half an hour and as much as he wanted to interject himself, he was told by several people to not force himself onto you. So, he watches... and watches... and watches... until the sun sets and he realizes he ate all the food he brought you. _Fuck._

Reluctantly, he runs back up the steps to find you a replacement meal for the one he ate. When he finally returns back down the steps, he sees you walking off with the tennis player and glowers at the scene, taking a seat in the nearest chair to chug the bottle of water and eat the food he bought from the cafe, aggressively, again.

The next time Atsumu tries, he finds out after  ~~ harassing your friends ~~ extensive research, that your next match would actually be in Osaka, which is perfect because he would already be there after ~~calling in sick~~ successfully moving his schedule around. Grabbing a cap and sunglasses, he strolls into the stadium with a little more pep in his step because no one notices who he is. Besides, it’s game day for you. It’s supposed to be about you. He doesn’t know if he was into the game or into watching you, but when the set ends, he’s jumping out of his seat and screaming at the top of his lungs. “I love you!” 

What he doesn’t expect, is for more fans to jump up and yell the same thing. 

You turn your head to face the crowd, with a look of shock and joy, and he’s almost convinced you’ve recognized him until he realizes he’s being washed out by everyone chanting the three word phrase and fumes.  “Fuckin’ brats.”

The third time he tries, he’s waiting outside of your apartment in another ball cap and sunglasses, dressed in all black and not realizing how creepy he looks until he notices how uncomfortable your neighbors were walking past him. Ignoring the long stares, he continues to lean against the wall next to the door. This is usually the time you come back from a run or spin class unless you changed your routine and fortunately, he had about two hours before he needed to head to practice. Which means he has time to wait. The door opens to your apartment and he straightens his posture, staring right at the door with a charming grin. “Hey, baby girl.” 

Your friend screams and he screams from her scream until they’re both screaming. “I’m calling the cops!” She yells.

“W-what, no! It’s me!” He takes off his sunglasses, “Atsumu!” 

After the shock wears off, her face morphs into irritation. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

He ignores her question. “Why are you at her apartment?” 

“Why are YOU at her apartment?” 

Atsumu grins. “She left a hair tie at my place, I just wanted to return it.” 

Your friend scoffs, almost laughing from his ridiculousness. “She’s not here. I’m looking after her place until she gets back.” Realizing she said too much, she dramatically locks the door and shoots a glare in his direction before walking off. 

“Until she gets back from where?” He hollers towards her receding figure. 

“None of your business, Miya!” 

“I’m gonna find out!” 

“Im going to have you arrested for stalking!” 

“Don’t yell that so loud, damnit!” He takes a last look at your door, sighing before he leaves. 

The fourth time he tries, he’s about to lose his shit. But, Atsumu is Atsumu and he’s going to keep at it until you eventually notice him. After more extensive research and hearing from your friends that you’re leaving the country in the next twenty-four hours for another tournament, he’s convinced it’s time to bring the big guns out and ignore everyone’s advice on being subtle. Subtle has not helped him in the least bit. He sends a flower arrangement to your apartment with a box full of luxury tennis dresses made from a designer he met at some event _._ To add a cherry on top, he’s in front of your door, knocking away with a bottle of wine you like and a bag of takeout, in the event you don’t kick him out. His excuse on showing up is that he wants to make sure you’ve received your gifts and likes them. It’s been about five minutes of knocking before he starts to bang on the door, purposely changing the increments of his knocks into a beat. Maybe you just didn’t hear him. 

The door swings open and his fist is still hovered in the area he was knocking on, eyes wide when he finally sees you. He grabs the door to keep you from closing it. “Wait!” 

A part of him wants to barge in and make a scene, then he remembers Osamu’s words along with everyone else’s.  _ Don’t force it.  _ He’s at a loss for words as he stares at you, so close, yet so far. Should he cause a scene?  _ Don’t force it.  _ His moment of internal conflict subsides and with a grimace, he takes a step back. “Did ya get my gifts?” 

You sigh, leaning against the door frame, giving him a clear view of Kuroo fucking Testurou sitting next to your friends. “Yeah.” 

Atsumu stares at Kuroo for a moment, glaring daggers before he looks back down at you. The things he wanted to say to you. The things he wanted to do to you. Yet, he’s frozen in place. 

“Thanks. Bye.” You step back to close the door. 

“I don’t wanna be your ex!” He blurts out, hands shooting forward to keep the door open. “I’m gonna keep tryin’ and.. I’m gonna prove to ya I can change. If we have to start as friends again, I’ll do it. Whatever it takes. I promise.”

He’s scared and his nerves are spiraling out of control because he can’t read you. It doesn’t make it any better that Kuroo’s grinning from the couch with his beer stuck at his lips. Regardless, he’s going to keep trying. 

You sigh, chewing on your bottom lip while you pluck the bottle of wine from his grasp. You lift the bottle up with a crooked smile. “I’ll call you.”

The door closes in Atsumu’s face, but he’s stuck in the same spot, grinning for a long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Ex by Kiana Lede


	10. Friends with Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time Atsumu tries.

When you left for your tournament, several days pass before he finally gets a text from you. Another week passes before the two of you finally get to talk.  You two are on a video call while he’s driving home from practice, in a not so comfortable silence. Thankfully, driving is keeping him occupied and you eating breakfast is keeping yourself busy from having to force a conversation that just wasn’t there. 

“Sorry for not being able to talk earlier, I’ve been busy.” 

Atsumu glances at his phone. “All good. What cha been up to?” 

“Same old.” You clear your throat. “What you said that night—”

“I meant every word of it,” Atsumu cuts you off, gnawing on his bottom lip. “If ya wanna start back from square one, we can do that. I know I hurt you in the past and I don’t wanna force ya into something yer not comfortable with.” 

There’s another long pause and he glances at the screen with a reassuring smile. A part of him wishes to hear you say that you want to be with him. The smarter part of him knows you’re hesitant, because he grew into a habit of disappearing when he was bored in the past, but you still love him and he knows that has to mean something.  _ Please don’t say you want to be friends. Please don’t say you want to be friends.  _

“Can we just be friends for right now?”  _Goddamnit_. 

Atsumu chuckles nervously. “Ah... that’s gonna be hard for me, babe.” 

There’s a knock on your door and you sigh. “Hold on.” 

When Atsumu looks, he has to look twice. You’re dressed in a tennis dress and he’s always said white looks amazing on you. Thoughts start forming because all he can think about is how he always had a habit of lifting the end of your dress to make sure it had built-in shorts. The one time you wore a dress that didn’t, he spent a solid half-hour railing you in a locker room. All gas no breaks because both of you had somewhere to be in the next hour and he couldn’t help himself. He can feel an erection when he remembers cumming in you and making you walk out with cum dripping down your thighs. The sound of a horn honking has him jumping out of his seat. “Shit!”

He swerves out of the other lane and rolls down his tinted window to flip them off. “Fuckin’ asshole!” 

You appear back in front of your phone and raise a brow from his flushed face. “I have to go.” 

“Okay, I love you.” Atsumu realizes what he says and grimaces when he sees conflict in your eyes. 

“Bye.” You hang up. 

— 

The time Atsumu realizes that you still love him, the two of you are tossing back shots at a sports bar and laughing over something he observed from far away.“Watch, he’s ‘bout to buy her drink and she’s gonna accept it and leave with another guy.”

You raise a brow, leaning closer to him. “Want to bet?” 

Atsumu laughs and pulls you to him. He’s not sure if it’s from the buzz, but you don’t push away from him. “Done deal.” You miss 100 of the shots you don’t take. At least, that’s what Atsumu saw when he was looking up poems and quotes to send you. “Let’s up the stakes. How about a kiss?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, it’s harmless!” 

“A kiss is harmless to you?” 

“It’s just a kiss!” 

_ Ah_. The exact reason you and Atsumu broke up. Miscommunication. Nothing was ever  _ just _ a kiss. He should know that from when someone had  _ just _ kissed him at a club and his feelings for you wavered. Uncomfortable, you push away from him, sobering up by the second. “I should go.” 

“Wait—,” He chases after you, grabbing hold of your wrist. “I don’t understand, why are you leaving?” 

You snatch your hand out of his grasp, ignoring the onlookers. “Nothing is  just a kiss. You don’t know boundaries. You never did.” 

_Don’t force it_ , says his model friend.  _ Be subtle_, says Osamu. He’s done with that. After you leave and he’s contemplating on what to do, he shows up at your apartment the same night, persistently knocking until you opened the door. A part of him felt bad for banging on your door at 2:30 in the morning because he remembers you saying you received several complaints from neighbors. Maybe he didn’t know boundaries. Maybe he was too friendly. Maybe he did say and do things that he didn’t really think twice on. But, he’s going to try because he wants to be better. He’s going to try.

When the door opens, you step aside to let him in, more out of common courtesy for your neighbors because you didn’t want to cause another scene at an ungodly hour. 

“Listen to me.” He reaches for your hand, squeezing it to the point you couldn’t just wriggle out of them. There’s a certain aggressiveness to him that’s differentiated from his recent interactions with you. The one that makes your spine tingle when he holds your gaze. “I’m tryin’. I really am. You can’t fault me for my past, you know that better than anyone.” 

There’s a mix of emotions. Pain from his selfishness. Respect from him owning his actions and being brutally honest. Especially when it dealt with his feelings and learning process. Attraction from his type A personality because it’s stupid to try and deny the chemistry between you two. 

“I never cheated on you when we were together. I broke up with you because I started to wonder what it would be like if I did? And I would rather break up with you than cheat on you and have you walkin’ around lookin’ stupid.” Atsumu hesitates for a moment before he slowly wraps his arms around you to pull you into his chest. It hurts to realize the pain he put you through. To see the consequences of actions and how it affects people around him. He just didn’t think it would be this hard to see you break down because of him. “I’m so sorry for hurting you. You gotta trust I’m trying. I’ll be whatever you need me to be... just let me.”

“I’m scared Tsumu. I don’t want to get hurt again.” 

It’s a lightbulb moment for Atsumu. Affirmation that you still love him. That’s all he needed.  “We can’t be just friends if we’re still in love with each other, babe.” 

You frown. “Can we just try to be friends?” 

Atsumu sighs, looking up at the ceiling while he contemplates. “Yeah, okay... fine.” 

“We’re setting boundaries though. Don’t show up uninvited anymore, my neighbors hate you.” You start glaring when he laughs. “I mean it!”

“Kay.”

“If you want to sleep with other peo—”

Atsumu raises a brow. “I don’t—wait...” He breaks into a chesire grin, leaning his forehead against yours. “I think what you’re asking for is to be friends with benefits. ” 

“I mean—,” 

Confidence surges through him when you don’t deter him as you’ve done countless of times before. But, your inability gives him a moment of apprehension and he gives you an out by stepping away, almost like a silent gesture that he doesn’t want to force you into something you’re not sure of. Because as much as he wants you, he won’t indulge if you’re hesitant.

To say he’s elated is an understatement when you take a step towards him to close the gap between you two. ”You’re trouble.” You mutter, staring up at him with amusement. 

“You knew that already when I punched that idiot friend of yers in high school.” He lowers his lips to your neck and starts to work on finding the spot that’ll make you weak. “Ya wanna get fucked again, baby?” 

His hand slides down your curves to rest on your hip, grinding against you at an agonizingly slow pace. “Want it nice and slow?” He  pulls away to stare at your lips, subconsciously licking his own before his actions do a complete 180. The hand that was on your hip curls into your hair, yanking it back to elicit a gasp from you. “Or, do ya wanna get fucked like a slut?” 

Friends with benefits? He’ll take it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack - From Time by Drake — It seem like you don't want this love anymore; I'm acting out in the open, it's hard for you to ignore; But girl, what qualities was I looking for before; Who you settling for, who better for you than the boy.


	11. More than FWB

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time Atsumu and you get back together.

Friends with benefits did not end up going as planned. Because Atsumu is Atsumu and he wants what he wants. After a few months of this FWB relationship with you, he has successfully turned in his player card and rightfully handed it to Bokuto with open arms. Everything was coming to a fruition and he’s ecstatic and happy, all smiles and grins, it’s contagious and the team greatly appreciates it. They’ll tell you that later on, too. 

Atsumu told you to come over to his place so he could have some R&R time before he left for a tournament. He’s showered, did a little manscaping, Sauvage by Dior on his neck and wrists, gray sweatpants on, and a black t-shirt. The specific outfit he’s wearing is the, _I’m trying to get laid but i look like I’m just chilling_. Besides, he said he just wanted to relax, so when you show up in spandex shorts and an oversized t-shirt with no bra, he knows it’s game on. Because this is your, _I’m chilling but I’m going with the flow_ outfit.

A hand on your cheek, lips moving against yours and he’s thrilled because it feels so right to be in this place of comfort with you. He pulls you on top of him, rubbing his hard-on against you and almost dies from happiness when you grind into him. “Feel how hard I am for ya, baby?”

Your moans are heavenly when he lifts your shirt up to suck on your nipple, teeth grazing the bud before he soothes the area with his tongue. He slips his hands into your shorts to squeeze your ass, kneading into it like he was trying to knead dough.

Atsumu’s an ass man, always has been and always will be. He loves your ass, the plumpness of it, the way it jiggles and does its own dance when you walk. He loves grabbing it, kneading it, watching it move when he fucks you. He would go to war for it, might even eat it if you ask him to and he has no shame in his game, that’s why you love him.

You’re moaning his name when he bucks up. Atsumu’s effortlessly lowering you on the couch to pull your shorts off of you and teasing you about how soaked your panties are. There’s an urgency in his actions, because he’s getting a gut feeling something’s going to interrupt him and his R&R time with you and he needs to relieve some stress before he goes overseas. 

As if timing couldn’t get any more fucking worse, Osamu walks through the door. “Why do ya have a phone if you don’t fucking answer it? I’ve been callin’ for hours hour now and—,”

Call it twin intuition, Atsumu’s jumping in action, throwing a blanket over your body while he pulls his sweats up, irritated but not surprised because he called it from a mile away. “What the fuck?! Why the fuck are ya here?!”

“Well if you’d answer the fuckin’ phone! I wouldn’t have t’show up uninvited, dumbass!”

“I’m not a fuckin’ dumbass, yer a dumbass!” They kept slurring insults out to each other for an hour, never getting to the main reason in why Osamu showed up and Atsumu ended up not getting laid like he intended before he left the country. Disappointed but not surprised.

—

A couple nights later, Atsumu’s finally back in his hotel room, scrolling through his feed when a message from you pops up. He opens the text to see a video that has his jaw dropping. Locking the dead bolt to the door, he slowly makes his way back to the bed, eyes glued to his phone because you’ve just gotten out the shower and you’re playing with yourself in a mirror. Fondling your breast and turning around to shake your ass for him before you put the view back to yourself and smile innocently. The video ends and he blinks a couple of times, exhaling the breath he’s been holding in.

“ _Goddamn_.” He mumbles, shaking his head in disbelief and taps on a button to FaceTime you. When the video connects, he’s smirking, a hand already on his cock. “Show me that lil’ dance of yours again. I gotta surprise for ya when yer done.”

And yes, Atsumu did end up accidentally saying he loves you again as he’s done countless of times before. This time, you say it back and MSBY ends up coming back with a victory.

—

Friends with benefits didn’t go as planned because when he sees someone in the club eyeing your ass like how he does, he’s freaking out with Shoyou trying to quell his nerves to no avail. _Aren’t you guys just friends_? Yes, Shoyou. He is absolutely right, but your ass is Atsumu’s ass and he always had an issue with sharing.

“I’m about to beat his ass.” Atsumu snarls, hand clenching into a fist as he rolls his shoulders. “Why the fuck did she decide to wear that?”

“Uh, maybe because she’s in a club?” Bokuto asks, downing his shot before he sucks on a lime. “You two didn’t even come together. Why are you acting weird?”

“Because he loves her.” Shoyou responds casually, taking a seat in the boot that was sectioned off for them. “Still.” He added.

Bokuto smirks when he sees a man walk up to you. “Oh boy, doesn’t that go against the friends with benefits code?”

“Mind yer business.” Atsumu grumbles, taking a swig of his beer. “Besides, what the hell is a friends with benefits code?”

“You know, strictly friends, no warm and fuzzies, definitely not being in love.” Bokuto drawls, watching you converse with the guy. “Are you fucking other people?”

Atsumu blinks. Your FWB arrangement with him was actually not a FWB arrangement. More than friends, all the warm and fuzzies, in love, and not fucking other people. “No.”

“Huh. Seems like a relationship to me, then.” Shoyou adds in, laughing at Atsumu’s glare.

When Atsumu looks at you, his mind is in a frenzy, feelings hectic and going awry because all he can think of is he needs to have you. Needs to be with you and just you. Almost like an epiphany because he’s feeling all the warm and fuzzies as Bokuto mentioned and all he wants is you. Just you. To shout it out loud that he wants you. To let everyone know and he doesn’t need to be coaxed into it. Feet moving on autopilot, he finds himself behind you, listening in on the conversation between you and the stranger.

You freeze when Atsumu’s hand slides down onto your ass, his fingers toying at the hem of your dress. Not because you didn’t know who it was, no. You know those hands and you can smell the distinct cologne of his when he was behind you. Instinct makes you lean back into his touch, smiling when Atsumu takes a step closer to you to close the gap between you two and continue with his ministrations discreetly. Ministrations involving him pulling at the strap of your thong, letting it snap back into place and repeating that same gesture over again.

“Are you okay?” The guy asks, trying to place a hand on your arm when Atsumu swats its away.

“Don’t touch my girl.” Atsumu states, a grin still showing even though he was being anything but friendly.

Your mind is hazy, foggy even and the man in front of you is out of his mind drunk because he still didn’t get the hint, continuing on a one-sided conversation with you, but despite not being in the right mind, you know Atsumu’s patience is wearing thin.

Atsumu shifts a bit. “Hey, do ya wanna go get my girl a drink?”

The man blinks. “What?”

Atsumu tilts his head and mocks him. “ _What_? Go get my girl a fuckin’ drink and get me an IPA. Thanks.”

The man looks back and forth between you and Atsumu, finally coming to a realization that this is not just a girl from a club, this is his girl. He stares at you for a moment, as if he were contemplating if you were worth fighting for. Guess you were and guess he wanted to buck up to Miya Atsumu, MSBY setter. “I didn’t think she was yours, she came in with her friends. So why don’t you get _your_ girl a drink?”

Atsumu smirks and turns you around to face him. “Hear that, babe?”

You blink, completely confused as you stare up at him. You were just here for a good time, not to watch two men face off to see who has the bigger _big dick energy_. “What are you doing? Why are you trying to make a scene?” You mumble, only loud enough for him to hear.

“I think we’re more than just friends with benefits.” Atsumu responds, glancing at the man who’s still standing in front of you. “What do you wanna do?”

You glance back to the man in front of you, gnawing on your bottom lip before you look back up at Atsumu. “You’re giving me an ultimatum, right now?”

“I don’t like sharing.” He shrugs, grinning unabashedly and leans closer to you, repeating each syllable. “What do you want to do?”

You stare up at him at a loss for words, mind coming up blank due to him throwing this question in a middle of a club and in front of a guy who’s watching the conversation, eager to hear your response. Of course, Atsumu would do this. He wouldn’t be him if he didn’t bring attention to himself and the people around him.

“Want me to say it out loud?” He offers, grin stretching from your shock. He backs away slightly and tilts his head up, a hand going to his mouth. “I LOV—!”

His words are muffled when you smash your lips over his and he eagerly tightens his grip on you kissing you back, uncaring if a picture is going to show on the tabloids of you and him. His gaze flits over to the man while he’s kissing you back and it’s all in his eyes, a smirk evident from how his eyes crinkle. You’re his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something about A-type personalities that gets me swoooooninnng. It’s the Leo in me lol. 
> 
> Soundtrack — Match My Fly by Moneybagg Yo


	12. It Needs to Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you break.

While Atsumu is living his dream, playing volleyball, enjoying the career he loves, you’re walking around with a cast and crutches, longingly staring out the window like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home. Post surgery was miserable. Of course, Atsumu did everything he could as a doting fiancé could do, but you felt helpless and lost. If not tennis, then what? What are you supposed to do?

You place the crutches next to you as you settle onto the couch, flipping through channels when a specific segment on a sports channel catches your attention. Analysts, commentators, and reporters are highlighting your injury and what it could mean.

_“Will probably never be able to get back to her pre-injury state.”_

Your heart constricts against your chest, the sound of the beats thumping into your ears like a metronome. No pain could amount to this. It’s going to take months to even be able to get back on the courts to play leisurely again and more months of training lost in recovery. The future of playing in the Olympics grow dimmer, just like the light in your eyes. Your gaze wanders to the trophies in a cabinetry, combined of yours and Atsumu’s accomplishments in your careers and you push yourself off the couch, ignoring the pain in your leg as you hop over to the cabinet.

Memories of victories, tears, and feelings of _finally_ echo throughout your thoughts. Increments of waves crashing into you of pure bliss as reminders of what hard work and grit gets you. The single’s trophy you finally won for the first time from the Wimbledon tournament sparkles under the light as if it’s mocking you. The first and last time you’ll ever be able to have it. The rude awakening of how quick something can be taken from you.

As if you were compelled, you reach for the trophy, pulling it out of the cabinet delicately. Holding it in your hands as if it were a child, you inspect every detail of it. From the salvers to the reserves and finally to the intricate details on the rim. Every memory of that specific match replaying into your head like a record player on repeat. As if you flipped a switch, your mind wanders to the previous match and how you forced yourself to keep playing despite the pain telling you to stop. What if you conceded defeat? What if you didn’t keep playing?

A part of you tells you that the injury would have been easier to mitigate than the one you have now. Gripping the edge of the circular trophy, you hurl it towards the ground, listening to the metal hit the wood flooring in a loud clang that reverberates throughout your ears. The abrasive sound doesn’t diminish the blare of your heartbeat. Adrenaline pumping through your blood while you watch it swivel before it finally settles onto the ground. It won’t break. It needs to break.

While Atsumu will continue to win trophies, medals, and championships, your accomplishments will remain stagnant. As you stare at the rosewater dish, the trophy of a Wimbledon winner, It’s a reminder that you will never get back to that point in your life again. A reminder that no matter how much rehabilitation you do, you will never catch up.

The pain in your leg is throbbing in the same tempo of your heartbeat, telling you to concede defeat. To accept the reality that while Atsumu will continue to be as bright as the sun and improve in his skill as he progresses through his career, you will be the past of your own sport. You’ll become a name that falls on deaf ears. The one who succumbs into the shadow of your lover once again. You will no longer be in the top ten rankings in the WTA singles. You will only be Miya Atsumu’s fiancé.

You fall to the ground, gripping the trophy once again as you break into sobs because the damned Venus rosewater dish won’t break, even though you’ve already been broken. It needs to break.

***

When Atsumu returns home, he almost ends up having a heart attack when he sees you laying on the floor with the Wimbledon trophy clutched to your chest. The mixture of your tears and the medication to help with your post-surgery pain lulled you to sleep. He sees the scratches on the floor, the door to the trophy cabinet left wide open and as he crouches down to ensure that you are indeed just asleep, he feels your pain as if it was locked in that specific room, waiting to leech onto the next person.

To tell them the story of an athlete whose career was wretched from them in a blink of an eye and while Atsumu is pulling the trophy from your grasps to place it back into the cabinet, he makes a promise that you’ll never have to go through your pain alone. A promise that all of his wins will be more than just for himself, but for yours, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lil' bit of Angst, tiny sliver of fluff.


	13. Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Atsumu takes interest in you.

“Y’look like shit. Hell happened last night?” 

Atsumu glares at his twin. The two were walking towards the volleyball court for practice in—surprisingly—silence until Osamu decides to address the elephant in the room, the knot on Atsumu’s forehead and his bruised knuckles. “Rich boy got his ass beat, that’s what.” 

Osamu raises a brow. “Which one?” 

“Football captain.” Atsumu murmurs, rolling his shoulders. “Said some dumb things.”

“You need to control your temper.” Kita calls out from behind them. “The National Tournament is in a couple months. The last thing we need is for you to make poor choices that’ll affect your standing on the team.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Atsumu grumbles as he starts his warm ups. 

After a long practice including a  _ calm _ lecture from Kita about every action done outside of volleyball is a reflection of the team, he’s walking towards the gates with Osamu when he stops short outside the tennis courts.  “Hey, I’ll meet ya home.” 

Osamu follows Atsumu’s gaze. “Didn’t ya hear a word cap’ said?” 

Atsumu blows a raspberry, glaring at his brother. “I’m not gonna do anything! I’m just watchin’!”

“That’s creepy, but okay. Later creep.” Osamu waves, smirking when Atsumu starts yelling at him. 

Apparently you didn’t notice him, because you kept practicing on your serves. The other side of the courts were filled with yellow tennis balls scattered throughout the service line and you look really determined to get the ball to land in a specific area. 

When Atsumu mentioned for you to hang around him, you did the exact opposite, avoiding him if at all possible. The two of you were in the same home room and you came in with your usual friends, albeit a little late. He wasn’t going to outright walk up to you, especially after the fiasco the night prior and assuming the adrenaline rush got the best of him in saying things he didn’t mean and you doing things you didn’t mean, it’s just going to be as if you never approached him. 

You, on the other hand, felt out of place. Going home last night put a lot of things into consideration, your choice in friends for the most part. How many times were you going to let someone get away for being a narcissistic bully while you just watched on the sidelines because you were too scared to stand up? It’s not like Atsumu wasn’t a well-liked person, but there was a divide between sports team as if it were its own fraternities and who they hung around with. Besides, the few times you two were in the same circle of friends, he never had a means to spark conversation with you. What does a volleyball player and a tennis player have in common? Almost nothing other than the fact you two played a sport.

Atsumu finds himself staring through the fence, watching your triceps flex through your thermal every time you served the ball. The sound of the racket hitting the ball with a twinge that echos from sheer force and eloquence of precision. He watches over and over again as if he’s hypnotized, but not from the sport itself. He didn’t even like tennis, thought it was boring, especially singles matches, but this was much more interesting. To see you in an element you feel at peace with, to see you as someone that wasn’t part of the jocks of Inarizaki. Assholes who shoulder-check lanky kids into the lockers just because. Rich kids who flex their parent’s wealth to make friends. Teens who need their egos stroked because they’re threatened by anyone with a sense of clarity. To see you as just you, not the bystander who watches on or the quiet student sitting amongst a throng of people he loathed. You as you are, doing what you love with your wall of defense dropped. 

You’re set to serve another ball when you toss it in the air and swing it again. This time it hits the fence, lodged within the chain link and you pull out your ear buds, staring at the one specific ball for a moment too long. The specific ball you served was from a source of pent up frustration, from never being confident enough to stand up to your so-called group of friends because you were scared. Scared of being outcasted and most importantly, scared to end up alone. Your mother was always gone and your father wasn’t in the picture.You had no siblings and your only source of friends were from your childhood upbringing. Not all of them were bad, but you’ve come to find that if you couldn’t even stand up for the kid that got his head slammed into his lunch, you were just as bad along with everyone else. 

You feel a pair of eyes on your back and sigh, steeling your posture. “Do you mind getting that? You’re closer to the fence than I am.” You call out, glancing back to look at Atsumu. 

He’s stuck staring at you until you finally turn around and he gives you his signature grin, holding your gaze for a moment longer before he jogs over to where the ball was lodged and pulls it out, he doesn’t throw it back. Instead, he walks around the fence to and hands it to you, to graze your fingertips, a lingering touch because he can’t help himself. He’s a natural flirt, uncaring of repercussions because that’s just who he was. He has every right to be confident and he knows it because he’s earned it through hard work and dedication. 

You give him a cordial smile before you start to clean up the area around you. 

“Lemme help!” He calls out, jogging over to where you were and picking up the scattered balls and tossing them in the bag where the others laid. 

You walk towards the bag to drop them in, not as efficient as Atsumu at all. “You don’t have to. I’ve got it.” 

Atsumu shrugs, continuing with his ministrations, under handing his tosses so it’ll land in the bag. “The way yer doin’ it, it’ll take forever.” 

“Not everyone has the energy of a toddler.” You retort, not noticing his shocked expression. You immediately regret your choice in words, you didn’t even know the guy. 

“Oy! That was rude!”

You keep your back turned. Surely, you can apologize even though it felt like pulling teeth. “I’m sorry.” 

For a moment, Atsumu’s irritated until he realizes you were joking. “I don’t bite, promise.” 

Ignoring his comment, you exhale the breath you’ve been holding. “I have to put this away.” 

“Lemme help!” He offers again, jogging over to grab the bag from your hands and grins. 

He’s relentless and you have a feeling no matter how many times you try to deny him, he won’t take no as an answer. You sigh and relinquish your hold, packing up your gear before you sling the bag over your shoulder as you follow behind him. “Do you even know where it’s at?” 

“‘Course I do.” Atsumu responds, strolling into the hallway when he stops in his tracks and glances back at you. “Gimme a hint, I think I forgot where it’s at.” 

You point to the door. “It was right outside the courts in that little building.” 

“I knew that. Just wanted to make sure you knew.” Atsumu grins as he turns around and walks back outside with you in tow. 

After lugging the bag of tennis balls back into the closet, you’re getting ready to leave when he stops you. 

“You should take me up on my offer sometime. Besides, ya still owe me.”

You’re trying to remember what you owe him on, blinking a couple of times. To be his friend? That’s kind of odd considering he had plenty of them. There was never a time he was alone, always around a group of people in the hallways. Anyways, what could hurt? Just friends and he was a decent person to be around, from what you’ve gathered at least. “Yeah, sure. Okay.”

Atsumu’s grin widens. “Alright!  _ Friend _ .” 

You can’t help but smile from him. He’s contagious, a breath of fresh air that has you feeling light and full of fluff. He’s a ball of sunshine, eliciting positive energy throughout everyone he touches. 

You exude a different light, maybe a glimmer of something within your facade that compels him. You’re like the moon, cold but beautiful. Almost like a phantom of something that’s there and isn’t. He sees the difference in your mannerism when you’re alone and he wants to nurture it. Like the moon to the sun, he provides you the light you need to shine. Giving you a dazzling smile and a breath of brightness, he can see it. He can see your own light that’s sparkling under your demeanor, one that wants to show and he’ll bring it out of you. 

“Friend.” You confirm, laughing when he nudges your shoulder before he walks with you to the train station, talking about whatever comes to mind like he’s known you forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack — Get me by Justin Bieber ft. Kehlani — You don't compare, don't fit in with 'em, do you get me? Judging by the way you open up, you get me


	14. Tempest

Friendships are always in the purest form when the same energy is reciprocated. It becomes routine that Atsumu and you would wait for each other after practice to take the train home, it’s how you met his friends. It becomes routine that he’ll search for you to ~~bother~~ talk to you about anything that comes to mind. 

This particular day, you’re conditioning. Running the track with your headphones in when you notice the football team practicing in the field across from the track. Your attention lasers in on to their drills, simply observing their hundred-yard dashes before you avert your focus to your breathing and pace. Something catches your eye, flecks of horribly-dyed brassy blonde hair that’s running up to you. 

Atsumu grins and purposely turns to run backwards in front you. He gestures to your earbuds and when you pull one out, he starts talking. “Have ya tried this onigiri shop down the road?” 

You run ahead of him, causing him to turn around and run beside you again. “Are you seriously thinking about food while running?”

“I always do! Whadya say? Wanna go? It’ll be just me this time.”

You glance at him and sigh. “I don’t know, when?” 

“Wanna go tomorrow? It’s our rest day.”

“I have practice.” 

“I’ll wait for ya.” Atsumu puts on the biggest puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”

You can’t help but smile. “Fine, fine! Now stop talking to me. I’m trying to beat my time.” 

Atsumu makes the gesture in zipping his mouth shut before the both of you fall into a comfortable silence of running together. You don’t catch him glancing at you from time to time with a cheesy grin. 

—

“Jeez, fraternizing with the enemy?” Ryuu taunts, slamming his hand onto the desk to gain your attention. 

You flinch, eyes widening from the noise that makes a few other people in home-room glance at you two. “What?” 

“ What ?” He rolls his eyes, taking the seat next to you. “Why are you even friends with him? He’s annoying.” 

With brows furrowed, you move your attention to the front of the classroom. You should have known this was going to happen. The guy next to you is the epitome of a typical narcissistic asshole. “He’s fine to me.” 

“He ruined my party.” Ryuu deadpans. 

“ _ You _ ruined your party.” You corrected, observing his face drop from your peripheral. 

“Volleyball players suck, football is where it’s at.” 

“Sounds like a personal problem.” 

Ryuu sucks his teeth before he leans back into his chair. “You should get him to fall in love with you and then break his heart. Take him down a notch.” 

“No, what is this? A low-budget Netflix drama?” You scoff. 

Ryuu grins at your response, slinging an arm around your shoulders before he leans closer, voice dropping an octave. “It would suck if mother dearest found out about what you did, don’t you think?” 

It’s your turn for your face to drop. Your body freezes, eyes stuck on the white board. Just before the bell rings, Atsumu steps inside with Ojiro and blinks when he sees you and Ryuu, shrugging it off and waving at you with a grin before he finds his seat. 

“Gotta deal?” He murmurs. 

Your hand clenches in a fist. The feeling of disappointing someone that never acknowledged your love for a sport and the feeling of hurting someone you had no intentions in doing. Your face grows warmer as tears start to form. “You’re the worst.” 

“News Anchor’s daughter sending nudes? Real  classy .” 

You’re not sure whether you felt the flush from embarrassment or your anger. Your ex-boyfriend, a third year, someone you thought you loved, the one who took your virginity, used you and gaslighted you. Someone who made you feel inferior and unattractive, who persuaded you to send him pictures of yourself and then proceeded to show it to everyone he was friends with, Ryuu included.

You were locked in, too scared with not enough courage to be indifferent if a stupid picture gets leaked. A pristine person on the outside with no bad reputation, agents were looking at you, what did you look like having that on your record? Rumors would swirl of you being fast, easy, and quite-frankly, you’d be slut-shamed. Your  friends who you see more as sharks—able to smell blood from awhile away, willing to eat at anything or anyone—have no issues in following the trends because if beloved football player Ryuu says jump, they’ll ask how high. 

“Fine, watch.” Your voice breaks as you wipe at your tears with your sleeve before you turn back to face Atsumu. 

Atsumu’s already watching you with his cheek rested on his palm, a grin stretching his face when you lock eyes. His grin morphs into a smirk when you put on your best smile and wink. 

Ryuu glances behind him and withdraws his arm, clearly satisfied. “Good deal.” 

—

You’re walking beside him when you see Ryuu walking to the train station. He turns around and sees you and Atsumu with a raised brow before he smirks and turns back around. 

“What was that about?” Atsumu asks while glancing at him. 

You swallow a lump in your throat and shrug. “I don’t know.” 

Atsumu’s quiet for a moment before he shrugs it off. “Okay, anyways are ya super hungry?” 

“A little.” You admit, chuckling when he slings an arm around your shoulder. 

“Good!” He leads you into a shop and looks through the glass, pointing at several ones before he looks over at your dazed expression. “You okay?” 

_No_ , you weren’t okay. You nod and smile stepping beside him to look.  You dig into your pockets to pull out some money and pause when Atsumu beats you in paying. “I could’ve gotten that.” 

Atsumu grins. “You can get the next one.” 

_Next one_. That leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and you smile nonetheless. “Deal.” 

You hated high school with every fiber in your being. Hated the people you involved yourself with, hated how everything was taken to extreme measures. Most importantly, hated peer pressure more than anything in this world. When you look back into situations like this as an adult, you’re wondering why in the hell it was so easy to be manipulated into doing irrational things to good people.

Friendships become complicated when secrets are kept. What was once a foundation is something that starts to crumble away until there’s nothing left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I hated high school. Lol 
> 
> Soundtrack - Hurt You by The Weeknd


End file.
